


Because I'm Pretty When I Cry

by thiscanbegin



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 16:46:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3216284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thiscanbegin/pseuds/thiscanbegin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a surreal experience to watch yourself die</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because I'm Pretty When I Cry

**Author's Note:**

> A dear friend of mine was listening to Lana Del Rey's "Pretty When You Cry" and tweeted me: "suddenly David Anders was a serial killer burying Meghan Ory & then she was a ghost sitting on his bed watching him do it". This is what I came up with based off of that idea.

Red was once her favourite colour but not anymore, not once she’s seen what the colour looks like as it flows out of the cuts in her body. So many cuts. She lost count after ten because that was when her body went into shock from the pain. All of them were just deep enough to bleed, yet still shallow enough to prolong the torture for as long as _he_ wished it to go on.

“All the pretty stars shine for you, my love,” he murmurs into her ear and his voice echoes all around her. His tone is gentle, loving almost, but she knows there’s no love in him. A person who could do something this sickening doesn’t feel anything, she’s sure of that. The blade stabs into her again, this time just under her ribcage. He pushes it up until the hilt of the knife leaves a deep imprint on her torso. She can’t feel it, thankfully, but she can still hear it. Hear the way her flesh tears across the jagged edges of the blade. Hear the way the blood makes an odd sort of squishing sound as it forces its way through the hole around the blade.

There’s a smile on his face and the gleam in his eye as he pulls the blade out. Unobstructed now, her blood flows freely through the wound and she knows it’s not going to be long now. Her breaths are ragged and shallow, barely even there. The faltering beats of her heart only serve to help him, as it pumps what is left of her blood supply out of her body through the holes he’s made. She watches as her green eyes fade until they’re ghastly gray. Her once bronze kissed skin is shockingly white. More than anything, she hates that she has to see herself this way. That she can’t just remember herself the way she was when she was alive. To watch your own death, she thinks briefly, is worse than living through it.

It’s over as fast as it started and yet it still feels like a life time had passed. She wonders what will happen to her now, as she sits perched on the edge of his bed. There’s not light to take her away from this. No darkness either. Only this. Only him.


End file.
